This One Confession
by Neo Nobody
Summary: SEQUEL TO THIS ONE NIGHT - Holmes takes Watson on a fancy date! But, when they get back, something makes Hotso- I mean WATSON lose his mind. What is it? Suck @ summaries! HOTSON Rated for language, sexual content, and slight violence. And oh yeah, slash.


**DISCLAIMER: The Princess never has, and never will own anything, except a background with RDJ and Jude Law staring at each other with the caption "Disappointingly, he is entirely heterosexual."**

Princess: Ah, here it is. The sequel to This One Night!

Pie: *sigh* Finally. Whatevs, enjoy your [shitty] slash fic.

~:.`~:.`~:.`~:.`~:.`+'.:~'.:~'.:~'.:~'.:~

"Goodnight, Mary," I said, slightly looking off to the side as I kissed Mary lightly on the forehead. She smiled weakly, repeating the words, save the 'Mary' for 'John'. She closed the door behind me as I walked down the street.

My thoughts were not on her, though, they were on my lover, Sherlock Holmes. Ever since that one case, that one night so many months ago, we've met as often as possible outside of cases he got. That's what I'm doing tonight.

It didn't take me longer than nineteen and a half minutes on foot to get to 221B Baker Street, as I was doing everything shy of flat out running to get there.

I don't know exactly what we're doing tonight though; Holmes wanted to keep it a secret. All I know is we're going out somewhere 'special, my dear Watson, _very..._ special.'

Through everything that we'd done, we'd never changed our ways of calling each other by our last names.

We'd never told each other that we loved each other, either. It was never given thought.

I came to the door and opened it carelessly. I stomped up the stairs, wanting to see the man I hadn't seen in almost a week.

And there he was.

He was pacing, going from room to room, grabbing things and moving them to other places; an encyclopedia of diseases from the bathroom was thrown onto the bookcase, for example.

"Ah, Watson, you are one minute and thirty-seven seconds earlier than last time. You're getting better!" He turned and smiled at me, and the world seemed to halt in this one instance.

It made sense that, for all the things Holmes has done for the Earth, that She would be kind enough to stop every once in a while and let the lovers on this beautiful planet have a moment of pure, undisturbed adoration.

All I could do to convey what I felt right then was to press the small of Holmes back into the arm of the couch and lean him over it, kissing him.

When we pulled away, we kept our eyes closed, knowing at the sight of each other's orbs of light that we wouldn't be able to control ourselves.

"No 'hello'?" Holmes questioned in a joking voice, "No, 'You selfish bastard'?"

I smiled, squeezing my eyes shut tighter.

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope. Never." I chuckled, stepping away from Holmes and straightening my coat.

After I'd paced a bit and calmed, I turned to look at Holmes.

His deep oceans of dark brown stared me back. Somewhere in the waters of darkness, I saw my own icy blue eyes reflected.

"Come now, Watson, we're going to be late," Holmes said, grabbing my elbow and dragging me out the door and down the street, letting out a few laughs along the way.

"Where are you taking me, Holmes?" I was excited, but a little nervous as Holmes led me past the last bit of town that I knew.

"Oh, you will see, my dearest Watson!" he laughed and began running. I could do nothing but follow, trying to weave through the pedestrians as Holmes did.

Soon we came to large, open doors which people were pooling through. There was a constant chatter of old women pulling their purses closer to themselves.

Holmes stopped me in the doorway, blocking my view of the inside and grabbing my shoulders.

"Now, Watson, do you trust me?"

"Not at all," Holmes smiled at me, sensing my complete lie. Even through everything he'd dragged me into, like the Scandle in Bohemia, or-

"Then close your eyes, and let me surprise you." I still trust him with my very life.

I gave him one last glare before closing my eyes.

Everything seemed amplified then; the chatter seemed to almost overwhelm me, and then I felt a hand on my wrist. Suddenly all I could pay attention to was that slightly cold hand.

It led me silently through the doors, but I did run into a couple of people; I mumbled apologies to them.

"You can open your eyes," whispered a voice. My eyes flew open, and what met them made me gasp.

I was in undoubtedly the biggest building I'd ever been in, while a lot of people swarmed around and into these long, connected chairs. (A/N Think... movie theater meets church pews)

"What... is this place?"

"The new concert hall," Holmes smiled wistfully. "You are about to hear the most beautiful music ever played... Doctor."

People only aware of his crime-solving side would not recognize his musical side. The musical side that used to keep me up at three in the morning, when Holmes would relentlessly play violin so beautifully. I now treasure those memories of living with this unkept, selfish bastard.

Holmes led me through the farthest back row of seats, where no one was sitting for a good seven or eight rows more.

Right as we sat down, as if on cue, about twenty people, whose faces were a blur, too far away to make out, walked into the center of the stage and... something close to pure emotion was created as the musicians began playing to a tune unfamiliar to me.

"This is free?" I hissed in Holmes's ear, wondering how we just... walked in on this perfect beauty.

"Yes. This is practice; it's open to the public, just so long as the orcastra is not disturbed. Their actual concert is here, and it is set for next month. I hear the bill is going to be pushing it, even for a rich man." Holmes whispered back, his soft voice caressing the air itself.

Minutes flew by, but neither of us seemed to mind. During a part in the performance when the music got quiet, seeming to pierce you through and through and leave you cold, I somehow found my twitching hand protected in Holmes's faintly cold one.

The orcastra finished their performance after a couple hours, and we slipped out before the rush of people going back on the streets could begin.

"Wow," I finally got out as we strolled down the street, watching the stubbern last of the sunset fall behind the buildings.

"Now do you see why I play violin at three in the morning?"

"Yes, yes I think I do." Silence engulfed us as we walked slowly back to 221B, taking in the very last rays of sunlight.

_"Going out with Holmes, Mary, so don't wait up." _I had told her, _"You know Holmes. You never know what will happen when it comes to him! I may even end up having to stay at his-"_

_"I _get it _John," _she seemed beyond pissed, massaging her temples. _"Just... go."_

_"Goodnight, Mary," _I kissed her on her forehead, trying not to be too intimate. Holmes told me yes, he did want me all for himself, but, to keep... _this _ a secret, I could do anything to keep Mary in the dark. But I still didn't want to betray Holmes even more than I had by marrying Mary in the first place, so I keep the tenderness at a minimum. Kiss goodnight. Pat on the shoulder. Kiss on the forehead when I left.

_"Goodnight John."_

It had seemed so... final.

_"Goodnight John."_ As if I was a burdon to her.

_"Goodnight John." _As if I couldn't possibly know what she was feeling.

"Good night tonight, eh sirs?"

"Yes, very!" Holmes replied the boy who couldn't be younger than five and twenty years, who was standing on the sidewalk, a Japanese flute in hand as he placing things in a hansom. "Oh, and uh," Holmes's face darkened, returning to the crime-solver face. "When you get back to your home, tell your wife you love her and that you'd never leave her for the world, even though she seems to think you prefer traveling to being with her. Remind her you love her way more than this God-forsaken world as you kiss her 'hello'."

"Ye- yes! Thank you!" then the boy gave a sharp start and spun back on Holmes, anger and confusion flying through his vision. "Wait! How did you know that?"

"Clothes, tattoos, gifts, and bruises speak louder than words." The boy was left opening and closing his mouth, trying to bring up words that would not come.

Holmes smiled and started leading me down and past the boy.

He hated it when people he explained his methods to thought it was something a child could do, so he just doesn't explain it to them anymore. Not saying that Holmes wasn't the most immature child I'd ever met, but it was incredibly hard to deduce these types of things.

Normal people _see,_ Holmes _observes._

Holmes walked up to his home, and my former home, and opened the door.

He stepped through the theshold, grabbing my wrist and pulling me through as well. I closed the door behind me, just in time before Holmes started running up the stairs and soon we were in his room.

Before I had time to think, Holmes had my chest bare and laying on his bed. He threw his own jacket, waistcoat, and shirt into the corner and leaned over me, whispering in my ear.

"I... haven't seen you in a week. I haven't... touched you in a week. I bet you're. All. Pent. Up... aren't you?" I felt his lips twitch.

"Of course I'm not, you self-centered _bastard._ Why would I be pent-" a kiss silenced me.

I think I honestly squeaked.

_Alright,_ I thought after a couple hours. _So I _was_ pent up. _(A/N Junjou Romantica FTW!)

~:.`~:.`~:.`~:.`~:.`+'.:~'.:~'.:~'.:~'.:~

Soon we lay on the bed, the sheets slightly tangled around us.

The night had settled down a while ago, and right now all I was doing was staring at the older man as he slept peacefully.

I jostled the man sleeping in my arms slightly, trying to awaken him to let him know that I was leaving.

When I saw his head cock towards me, I told him I was going to go back to my house. He smiled, slipping out of the bed and began pulling on clothes.

"What are you doing Holmes?" I asked, laughing at the sight of _Sherlock Holmes_ bouncing on one foot as he tried to pull on a moody sock.

"Walking you back to your house," he declared, placing both feet firmly on the ground and both hands stubbornly on his hips. "That's what people do after a date, right, my dear Watson?"

I chuckled, getting out of the bed and yanking on my own clothes.

As soon as we were out of 221B and walking down the street with my hands in the pockets of my long coat, Holmes seemed to fold into me. He latched his arms around my right elbow, laying his head against my shoulder.

I couldn't help it. I threw back my head and laughed aloud.

A couple of old ladies passed us and stared with a strange shock on their wrinkled faces.

That made me laugh harder.

Holmes began giggling as well, turning to a throaty chuckle, to a full-force guffaw.

It went on like that for roughly twenty-six and a half minutes, before we reached my doorstep.

I tried the door knob, finding it locked, I fished my key from my pocket and unlocked the door.

It swung open ominously, creaking all the way.

"Mary! I'm _back!_"

I walked in and froze.

"Mary? Mary?" I shouted, walking to the living room, then the kitchen, then the basement. I began running through the rooms, trying to find her. I should've come sooner! I'm a moron!

Everything of hers, every piece of clothing, everything she brought from her old life, was gone.

I finally got to our bedroom, my mind a wreck.

A bouquet of roses and a note sat on the bed where we had once laid together.

I rushed forward, picking up both and reading the note.

_Dear John,_ it began, _I'm sorry I have to write this._ _I'm sorry I have to put you through this. I know you probably started screaming my name when you first walked in the door, then began losing your mind. I'm so sorry to have to do this, but I didn't want to ruin you even more by asking for a divorce. _(A/N Did divorces even exist in the 1890s? Huh.) _I may not be as smart as you or Mr. Holmes, but I know just about enough to know that you and I as a couple, just won't ever work. Oil and water; never quite mixes right. I just can't go on living like you actually love me; I know you don't. Honestly, I think you never did. I just can't believe it's taken you this long to realize your feelings for Mr. Holmes. Being truthful, I'm not sure that I actually loved you either. My previous finance`, who sadly met the Lord before his time, I don't think I've ever truly moved on from __that__ either. But, I'm sure I'll find someone who'll help me get over the both of you. I'll probably leave England entirely; maybe I'll travel to Austrailia. I've always wanted to visit Austrailia. I love you. Tell Mr. Holmes I said 'thank you', for finally getting you to admit your feelings._

_With enternal love,_

_Mary_

I stood dumbfounded for minutes, just rereading the note.

Soon the answer to why she... left popped into my mind.

_This is Holmes' fault._

I spun around when I heard a floor panel creak.

I didn't know he stayed.

There he stood, puppy eyes in full swing. He just stared at me, his hands placed awkwardly in his pockets.

"You..." I whispered, rage boiling under my skin. "YOU SICK BASTARD!" I leaped up and grabbed Holmes by the collar. I punched him repeatedly in the face, until blood trickled down from his nose.

I punched him again, his face moving along with my fist, but he didn't make a sound. He didn't object, he didn't try to comfort me, he just stared at me with those brown eyes.

Soon the tears were freely flowing down my face, but I kept hitting him.

"I HATE YOU!" I shouted as I began pounding on his chest, but the blows got weaker and weaker, until my hands were shaking so hard all I could do was clutch at his collar. "I hate you! Oh, good Lord, I love you..."

Holmes's hands moved to me, and held me to him, letting me cry it out.

God knows how long we stood there, just clinging to each other.

"Wats- John. John," he whispered, coaxing me out from my hiding place under his chin. "Hey,"

"Yes?" I choked out between coughs and sobs.

"I love you too," I started crying harder at that.

Holmes led me to the bed and sat down with me, holding me tightly as I soaked his shirt.

I couldn't look at his face; I couldn't look at what I'd done to him. It would be way to much for me.

All I know is that, sometime during the night, I fell asleep in Holmes's warm embrace.

I awoke to the smell of burning eggs, flowers, and... was that chocolate? Also, a small banging sound came from the kitchen, a sound that could only be created as someone who doesn't know their way around tries to make breakfast rather quickly. A few curse words were mumbled as a smash of what I guessed was a pot falling to the floor reverberated off the walls.

I sat up in the bed, knocking the roses off the side. A crack of thunder outside shocked me; I didn't even know it was raining.

I leaned down and took off my shoes, placing them delicately on the floor. I stood up and started quietly padding down the hallway to the kitchen.

When I came in full view, I saw his jacket thrown carelessly over the table, his shoes resting on top of it. Holmes turned to me for a second when he heard me walk into the kitchen.

He was flipping pancakes, the butter sitting on the counter, burnt eggs were in the trash can, and slowly melting chocolate was placed on the counter, beside the butter.

Holmes didn't say anything as I walked in. I bet I looked like I just made it through hell, minus the pride. I hadn't shaved, and my eyes were definately puffy from crying. My clothes were no doubt wrinkled, my knuckles worn and bloodied, my hair greasy and covered in sweat.

This must be what it feels like for Holmes after he gets back from a fight.

Holmes motioned to the table, flecks of dried blood on his puffy nose and face. He looked me in the eye, and grinned. He didn't greet me, he just grinned.

_It's going to be alright, my dear Watson._

~:.`~:.`~:.`~:.`~:.`+'.:~'.:~'.:~'.:~'.:~

Princess: So shitty...

Pie: Yes. I suck. You suck. We all suck. Watson's di-

Princess: SHUT YOUR MOUTH

Pie: I'm only talkin bout Hotson!

Princess: Then WE can DIG IT!

Pie: Wouldn't it be 'Then I can dig it'?

Princess: Shuddup!

Pie: *Bitch-slap* See you next time in the 'This One' series! Tootles!


End file.
